#the people you stepped on on your way up? they still can't get rid of the stains

[grilledkatniss]

Kim Kardashian is not, never was, and never will be a victim.

#ppl bitching about her still being salty over the phone call an Kim's role in everything that came because of it #like you wouldn't be still seething too #why does Taylor have to be the better person tho? put the other cheek and such #no fucking way #she's making sure no one forgets how kim is not a girls girl #we no longer forgive people who aren't sorry and don't apologize #hey i might actually forgive all those middle school girls who would say i was anorexic & are the reason i still cant wear shorts in public #cause they were kids back then #we were kids #I'll probably never be able to let it go cause it's just taken so much from me #BUT KIM KARDASHIAN WAS A FULL GROWN FUCKING ADULT AND A WIFE AND A MOTHER #and you couldn't possibly say she didn't know better #taylor swift #awkwardifying life #honestly they might not be really on bad terms anymore but i feel like kim would definitely act like she's above apologizing and skip it #no bitch you caused real substantial harm and now look. she's got the power to take everything from you #the people you stepped on on your way up? they still can't get rid of the stains #kim kardashian #but honestly it hurts more than what Kanye did because he had a very evident condition even at that point #kim knew better than to stoop to that level #and then kims name dropping her like nothing even happened #now you're switching up your behavior kim #i know there's a parallel to katy perry here but katy was in fact the bigger person in the end #idk i get riled up about it still #yes swifties have issues letting go #and yes we're reasonably vindictive #Taylor's current success? you know for a fact there's a big portion of us just consuming her stuff mostly so scooter cries himself to sleep

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

#cinderella #cinderella (1950) #fairy tales

[thatdogmagic]

...that your audience won't hate.

This is a method I started using when NFTs were on the rise - thieves would have to put actual work into getting rid of the mark - and one that I am now grateful for with the arrival of AI. Why? Because anyone who tries to train an AI on my work will end up with random, disruptive color blobs.

I can't say for sure it'll stop theft entirely, but it WILL make your images annoying for databases to incorporate, and add an extra layer of inconvenience for thieves. So as far as I'm concerned, that's a win/win.

I'll be showing the steps in CSP, but it should all be pretty easy to replicate in Photoshop.

Now: let's use the above image as our new signature file. I set mine to be 2500 x 1000 pixels when I'm just starting out.

Note that your text should not have a lot of anti-aliasing, so using a paint brush to start isn't going to work well with this method. Just use the standard G-Pen if you're doing this by hand, or, just use the text tool and whichever font you prefer.

Once that's done, take your magic wand tool, and select all the black. Here are the magic wand settings I'm using to make the selections:

All selected?

Good.

Now, find a brush with a scattering/tone scraping effect. I use one like this.

You can theoretically use any colors you want for this next part, but I'd recommend pastels as they tend to blend better.

Either way, let's add some color to the text.

Once that's finished,

You're going to want to go to Layer Property, and Border Effect

You'll be given an option of choosing color and thickness. Choose black, and go for at least a 5 in thickness. Adjust per your own preferences.

Now create a layer beneath your sig layer, and merge the sig down onto the blank layer.

This effectively 'locks in' the border effect, which is exactly what we want.

Hooray, you've finished your watermark!

Now let's place that bad boy into your finished piece.

You'll get the best mileage out of a mark if you can place it over a spot that isn't black of white, since you'll get better blending options that way. My preference is for Overlay.

From here, I'll adjust the opacity to around 20-25, depending on the image.

If you don't have a spot to use overlay, however, there's a couple other options. For white, there's Linear Burn, which imho doesn't look as good, but it still works in a pinch.

And for lots of black, you have Linear Light

Either way, you're in business!

EDIT since this has escaped my usual circles, and folks aren't as familiar with my personal usage:

An example of one of my own finished pieces, with watermark, so you can see what I mean about 'relatively unobtrusive'-- I try to at least use them as framing devices, or let them work with the image somehow (or, at the very least, not actively against it).

I know it's a bummer for some people to "ruin" their work with watermarks, which is part of the reason I developed this mark in particular. Its disruption is about as minimal as I can make it while still letting it serve its intended purpose.

There's other methods, too, of course! But this is the one I use, and the one I can speak on. Hope it helps some of you!

#watermarks #artist tutorial #watermark #AI #art theft

[reiderwriter]

Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be 🌼!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!🤍🤍

A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!

Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.

Masterlist!

Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange. 

“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.

“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down. 

“Spencer, someone will hear.” 

“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”

His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today. 

“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.” 

You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm. 

He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit. 

“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax. 

Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed. 

“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.” 

“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.” 

You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months. 

Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team. 

You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take. 

Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck. 

You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.

Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him. 

Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be. 

And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well. 

The only problem was Hotch. 

You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet. 

“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further. 

“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-” 

“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”

“Y/N….” 

“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”

Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up. 

“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”

“And during?” 

“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”

You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed. 

“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place. 

“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”

“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room. 

12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways. 

“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.” 

“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”

“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.” 

You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.

So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico. 

You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist. 

“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-” 

“Absolutely not.” 

You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses. 

“Why not?” 

“I don't want you to distract him.”

Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in. 

“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.” 

He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’ 

You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again. 

“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself. 

“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”

You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted. 

An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge. 

Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone. 

But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking. 

It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van. 

×××××

Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went. 

He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since. 

“But where did she go?” 

“I sent her back to the motel.” 

“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?” 

A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.

A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them. 

“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child  a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”

“Great work, Penelope, send it over.” 

Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue. 

Again, their standoff was interrupted. 

“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”

“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-” 

Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance  he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place. 

Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation. 

“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.” 

It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before. 

“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-” 

“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”

“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de…” 

He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him. 

Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next. 

“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's …. It hasn't ended well for us before.” 

The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.

“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.

“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”

Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal. 

“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.” 

He paused again, staring Reid down. 

“Reid, you're with me.” 

xxxxx

It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in. 

A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training. 

The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine. 

Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out. 

There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom. 

Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room. 

Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in. 

“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.” 

There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view. 

He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military. 

“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.” 

You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”

The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke. 

“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”

He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively. 

A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with. 

If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter. 

“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.” 

He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped. 

“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.” 

“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”

In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip. 

“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.” 

He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure. 

“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.” 

He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head. 

He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his. 

“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy. 

“W-What?” 

“Your daughter. What was her name?” 

He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking. 

You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did. 

“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.” 

“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal. 

“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like… She should look just like you.” 

The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears. 

“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-” 

“That must have been hard.” 

He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs. 

“They said… they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was…” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter. 

“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we…we knew.

You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ. 

The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face. 

“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster. 

Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you. 

JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement. 

As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you. 

He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.

You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.

“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring. 

You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner. 

The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry. 

“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.” 

You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare. 

Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing. 

You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over. 

“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”

Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other. 

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder. 

“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry. 

“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”

“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”

You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it. 

“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my… coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.” 

And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that. 

“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.” 

JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest. 

“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer. 

“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.” 

“That bad?” 

“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.” 

“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure. 

“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.” 

The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation. 

“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.” 

“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious. 

“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.” 

The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep. 

xxxxx

A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up. 

“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip. 

“Dad, what the fuck?” 

“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.” 

“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure. 

“I won't…I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.” 

“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.” 

“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.” 

You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes. 

“Do I want to know?” 

“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.” 

“Thank you, dad.” 

He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer. 

“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot. 

“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.” 

You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die. 

“Great. Wonderful.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.” 

“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.” 

Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand. 

You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything. 

“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.” 

“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”

“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.” 

“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.” 

The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones. 

“Does your head still hurt?”

“Not really, why?”

“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”

You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room. 

There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father. 

Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you. 

His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you. 

“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.” 

He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it. 

“That was never the issue.” 

“Oh really, and what was?”

He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach. 

“Making sure you stayed by my side.” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[aft3rhrs]

— game over ღ

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: exes to lovers

warnings: yandere, mentions of blood and murder, kidnapping, restraints, corruption, manipulation, obsession, angst, implied imprisonment, dub con, praise, degradation, dirty talk, hints of fear kink, spanking (like once), rough sex, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

The floor creaked quietly under a pair of heavy boots. You kept your eyes on them as he moved towards you, too stubborn to look up, and too frightened not to tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," Yoongi cooed, crouching down in front of the bed. "I'm so sorry it took so long. Can't have the cops tracing my steps, can I?"

His fingers felt cool as he grasped your chin, and yet they did nothing to soothe the heat blooming through you. He smelled like snow, his cheeks rosy from the unforgiving bite of winter air.

Tilting your head, he kissed your taped mouth with utmost tenderness, like he wanted to leave a love note on the silver.

"Cold?" He murmured, noting the chills that erupted down your arms, his fingertip tracing their journey to your elbow.

In the golden glow of candlelight, with nothing but the pearly tape adorning your body, somehow, you weren't cold. Only uncomfortable, left sitting in the same position for what seemed like hours — knees bound to your chest, wrists tied together — though that was certainly the least of your problems.

"I'll untape your mouth now. Don't scream."

You shut your eyes as he reached upwards. A quick rip followed, the sting making you wince.

"Sorry," Yoongi soothed, stroking your hair, "Sorry, baby."

You didn't scream. It was pointless. He drove a long time to get here, civilization outside the tinted windows dwindling mile after mile. You had no doubt there was nowhere you could go, no one to hear your pleads for help. You'd sooner freeze to death trudging your way through the snow.

The arrogant smile playing on Yoongi's lips was infuriating. He looked like he could devour you, a cat that has finally caught its mouse.

"Good girl," he praised lowly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

Your stomach flipped.

"Let me go."

It came out as a whisper.

His eyebrows raised, head cocking to the side. Probably not the smartest thing to come out of your mouth, but what else were you supposed to do? Accept your fate as his little pet?

Yoongi released the soft strand, as if he got burned.

"I've been locked up for half a year... And this is how my girl greets me?"

His girl.

Why was he doing this to you? You barely dated for a few months before he chopped up two men who have been bold enough to bother you. Parts of their bodies were still in the process of being found all over the south of Seoul.

Were you going to end up the same?

You swallowed the knot in your throat, willing your heart to stop pounding. No words came, your thoughts too frantic to make sense of.

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

"The usual bratty attitude I can handle. But silent treatment? I can't fucking stand it. Your stupid little friends had enough time to convince you I wasn't good for you, huh?"

"You did that yourself!" you suddenly shouted, eyes brimming with tears. They spilled over, dripping down your collarbone. "You killed people, kidnapped me like some fucking lunatic!"

Yoongi stared at you as you sniffled. Once the dam broke, the fear broke loose too, pouring all over your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Panic started setting in. You had no idea if your outburst was going to be punished, even though in the short time that you knew Yoongi, he had never caused you any harm.

If you ever knew him at all.

He narrowed his eyes. You hated the vulnerable position he forced you into, hated how his gaze felt like a phantom touch.

"I didn't kill any people. I got rid of trash, and I did it all for you. To protect you."

He buried his face in his hands, hiding the shine of his own tears.

"Fuck. Are you actually scared of me right now? I would never hurt you."

What did it matter? Nothing about this love was healthy, and you longed to rip your heart out of your lungs to numb the feeling. You couldn't do this; couldn't let him taint your morals, or at least, couldn't let him see that he started.

All you had to do was convince him, and then yourself.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.

"I hate you," you whispered.

Yoongi froze for a moment, then looked back up at you slowly. You stared right back into his eyes through your wet lashes, no longer disturbed by their dark depths. A flash of uncertainty passed through his expression, promptly replaced by a cryptic calmness.

He hummed, shrugging his jacket off.

"Let's play a game, then."

Your stomach jumped when he placed his palm on your shoulder, slowly turning you away from him.

His lips inched towards your ear, hot breath brushing over its shell.

"I don't believe you, not for a fucking second. But I'll entertain you."

You stared at the shelf in front of you, the melted candle wax and golden jewelry laid out beside red roses. The bouquet looked small and miserable after you threw it at him.

You felt just about the same; small. Helpless as he hovered behind you, his intentions unclear, your fate even more so. Your pulse quickened as seconds ticked by.

A loud gasp escaped you as he pushed you forward. Your head spun from the suddenness of the action, cheeks instantly burning and knees trembling.

You fell face first into the silk sheets, ass up, like a little doll for him to use. He had to hold on to your hip so you didn't tumble. You've never felt so powerless before, so stripped of your dignity, or so hot when you heard him unbuckle his belt.

The adrenaline rush intensified your emotions, made your throat close up. Only a whimper passed through your panicked breathing.

"Look at that," Yoongi murmured. "You're dripping already."

You flinched as you felt his finger run down your folds, clenching needily. Everything was happening too fast—

"I missed you too."

No preparation, no warning; one moment you were empty, and the next you were full.

He groaned, leaning over you, dropping his forehead onto your back, and his hand in between your thighs.

The stretch hurt. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, hard and thick as you pulsed around it.

No mercy, no patience; he started fucking into you, choked groans and wet smacks filling up the room. His fingers quickly parted your slick folds, rubbing into the little nub between them to ease the pain.

It worked — it bloomed into a searing pleasure that made your tummy and your vocal cords quiver, soft, helpless whines fleeing your lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice broken, "fuck, you were made for me."

You shivered, finding yourself unable to fight against the restraints he put on you. Nevermind the tape; it was your soul that was truly imprisoned, and that made everything ten times worse.

His lips touched your ear again.

"If you don't come," he whispered, panting softly, "I'll let you go. But if you do, you will stay with me forever, do you get that, baby?"

Was this the game?

Fear clutched your heart in its iron fist, mingled with your most private, forbidden desires and desperate needs, made your eyes and your pussy wetter.

He reveled in it all.

"Go on," he taunted, "show me how much you hate me."

You did hate him.

Because nothing else made you feel like this, no matter what your friends said, no matter what seemed right or wrong. The blood on his hands dripped like an offering, all for you, a threat and a promise that predators loved, too, that they'd kill to protect their own. There was no life for him without you.

You urged yourself to hold on, to not give into your weaknesses. But it was hard when you were already tightening around him, on the brink of delirium and craving more.

"Yeah, there she is," Yoongi breathed. "My dirty little slut. My good fucking girl."

You cried out, your entire body tensing up. His cock throbbed inside you, rutting into you faster.

"Almost there? Are you gonna gonna let me keep you, baby? Chain you the fuck up like a good bitch?"

He was so close, playing dirty just to tip you over the edge, just to prove that you belonged to him. Hands curling into fists, you made an effort to focus, whining out a "no" that sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

"Yeah," Yoongi moaned. "Filthy fucking liar."

His fingers dug deeper into your hips, the hard grip marking your skin, planting the memory of this moment beneath it. Bruises would blossom tomorrow, and he wished he could see them all over you, a violet garden that grew from his love. Yet all he could do was slam into you faster, abuse that little spot inside you that his cock reached with way too much ease.

"Stop fighting it," he grunted, landing a sudden slap on your ass. "You're mine."

The harsh sting, the cursed words, the heat — it was all too much. The tension stirred and coiled in your abdomen, making black dots dance around your vision. Your cunt squeezed his cock desperately, barely allowing him to continue fucking you.

As if you were under water, everything became blurred, and soaked, with tears, with sweat and the orgasm rushing through you, encouraged by his filthy groans. So wet you didn't even realize he was coming too, until he stilled entirely, spilling inside you as you limped.

You listened to his breathing slow, your body thrumming, head pulsing with blissful nothingness. Too high and too weak to do anything but breathe with him.

A kiss was pressed into your spine.

"Mm... Should I give you one more chance?"

At that, you seemed to come back to your senses, breath hitching and eyes open wide.

Yoongi smirked, running his fingers along the tape softly.

"Let me grab a knife, pretty. I'll get you nice and comfy."

You almost flinched when he leaned over you again, his cock jerking and hardening in your sensitive hole.

"You did so well," he whispered into your ear. "Such a good, little bitch. I'm so in love with you."

A weak shudder went through you, ending with an ache right in between your legs.

Yoongi nuzzled your neck.

"Yeah, there you go. Don't you worry. We have all night to play."

Was it fair to play games one was destined to lose? Probably not, but unfortunately for you, that made it all more exciting to Yoongi. He wanted you to see yourself fail over and over, realize there was no running from your love.

It seemed you were about to.

He slipped out of you gently, biting his lip and watching his cum dribble out of you. His hand slid down to your ass, giving it a few, tender pats.

"Sit tight, sweetheart."

With that, he left you on his bed, again, ruined and aching and beyond lost. You heard him rummage through his drawers somewhere in the cabin, heard your heart beating in your own skull.

For some reason, you had a feeling this was just the beginning of a whole eternity. Hit play. Lose. Repeat. Try another level. Until your bones turned to dust and you were wrapped up in each other six feet under the ground. There was a sadistic side to Yoongi that seemed to enjoy the process, the struggle, the conquering of your mind.

Not surprising in the slightest; all dangerous creatures liked to play with their prey. Even more so when they loved it... And Yoongi would never stop loving you.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @shyygrl

#again sorry to the person I couldn't tag ❤️ #yandere bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi smut

[holyghostbelle]

Call the shots

dark!Oliver quick x fem!reader

TW:DUBCON? DARK!OLIVER(it's literally him though so idk)slight reader x felix, but also oliver pinning over felix because no ones mentioning that??? ed mention  reader and Oliver lowkey hate each other I guess. ( eventual smut) minors dni or ill sleep with your dad requests are open !!

read the next part here

my master list

He’s alluring,he pulls you apart with his teeth, sucking out your blood,he's messy. Loud and brash, but sometimes he's just Oliver, who's begging to pick you apart and get under your skin.

You sit. Still, stoic and smoking, Oliver can't read your face. He hates it. Flattery doesn't get you. You're not jealous or insecure, your love falls as far as a piece of string for the love of your friends and the only addiction you face is nicotine. Easily overcome-able, because you only really smoke outside his window at night.

He really hates it, hes half naked and the moonlight reflects of the lake onto the bare chest of his body, your on the steps, large striped blue shirt and a pair of matching shorts, white socks just grazing the height of your calf, the big thick brown reading glasses that fall to the tip of your nose and you take another cancerous puff off your cigarette. He watches your lips part, the glossy shine catching the light of orange embers. You gaze up at him, through thick lashes, he hides into the shadows, but your eyes still find him. The curtains close. 

He needs to get rid of you, he swears he will. 

You sit under the scorching embrace of the summer sun, finding solace by the poolside in the English heat, Clad in a short white sundress shielding your eyes with oversized sunglasses, you turn the page of your book,spine bent into itself. Oliver collapses into a chair next to you, grinning lopsidedly.

“What are you reading?

“Perfume”

“Enchanting, has he started killing people yet?” 

“No” you answer monatonly. 

“Oh” his eyes examine you, a lingering curiosity.

You stand quickly, chucking your book into the chair. Hands reaching at the see through dress, you reveal a red gingham swimsuit. Your head cocks to the side, eyes bearing into his, you don't smile, there's a pause, your eyes squint at him wandering up and down his body, and you walk backwards before turning and diving into the pool. You don't come up for a minute and Oliver begins to think you've started to drown after seconds go by.

Venetia smiles against her cigarette in the lounge chair, she's reading vogue, eyes grazing against the small fragile bodies of the models. 

“She does that, she'll come up in a minute, she's not dead.” 

“She's very blunt, is she always like that?” 

“She tells it straight,” Venetia says.

Oliver stares at the pool, bubbles erupting out the water as you come up. You push your hair out the way of your eyes and glance up at him, black mascara running down your face. 

You think he's so small.

You sit on the weather stone steps, wrapped up in a silk nightgown and loose pink cardigan that slumps over your shoulder, red lipped. The crickets chirped rhythmically against the summer buzzing. There's a quiet anticipation in the air, a thickening tension. Your eyes linger on the window of his. A hand comes to view in the light, curtain being pulled closed Oliver waits for a moment, until a soft whisper slips through the opened window, and a giggle. And it's evident that you're not alone anymore. As two pairs of footsteps clatter against the stone steps.  

“Why don't you like him?” It's Felix’ voice, soft and calming, interrupting the night's silence.

“i think he's obsessive, he's obsessed with you” you respond

Felix laughs as Oliver pauses to shift the curtains, taking a peep at the pair under his window. He thinks you've pushed yourself against the wall, your leg peeking out from the silk gown, he hears a lighter and smells the cigarette you've lit. Felix is pushed against your body, he's not sure what part of your body is really you. 

“No he’s not” 

You twist your body around, leaning against the steps.

“You always chose the weird ones, who was the last one, Sam?”

“Eddie”

“Oh! Eddie, i remember when he got so drunk he puked all over that painting in the red room and your mum made him pay to get it cleaned after him and well you know” 

“So gross, he used to steal your cigarette butts with the lipstick stained on them. The housekeeper found them littered under his bed for weeks after he left.” 

“Always the weird ones, little freaks.” you whisper, and then you chuckle and he swears it's the first time he's seen you really smile. It's almost angelic when you breathe in your cigarette. The smoke surrounds your face before it disperses. 

Felix grins, and suddenly he's pulling you in for a kiss, arms wrapping around your waist, but you push him away. 

“Not tonight felix, girls night with Venetia, told her i wouldnt fuck you anymore as-well, i really promised this time”

“You always say that” Felix grins, arms pulling you in for a hug as he turns his back on Oliver's window. Your eyes gaze up at him,the light catching on his blue eyes as you quickly pull apart from felix. 

“Are you sure he's asleep?” you question.

“Yeah,why?”

“Something just moved” you point at the movement of the curtains as Oliver shifts backwards keeping his ear close to the window.

You don't see Felix for another couple of nights, you don't wait outside Oliver's window. 

Farleighs gone. 

And then, 

suddenly. 

Felix Catton is dead.

And the only person who's kept some semblance of sanity at Saltburn is Oliver, who everyone clings onto. He's the gift who keeps giving. 

A day before the funeral, you wait outside Oliver's window again, you're wearing Felix's blue Ralph Lauren jumper, arms way too big for your own as the sleeves fall off your fingers, they slip back down after you pull them up your arms and you eventually give up, your face is wet, the scent of felix lingers.

Oliver pulls on a blue shirt, stepping into trainers before making his way down.

He joins you for the first time, there's three cigarettes laid out on the stone steps and a white lighter is clutched into your hands. 

“There's one for you Oliver” you don't turn around to face him, but he can feel the grimace, through your face. 

“We’ve never really spoken have we?” Oliver questions.

“I dont think ive ever liked you, that's why.”

“So why now?” he mirrors the way you're sitting. 

“Because of Felix '' you whimper, you catch your face in your hands, sniffling you bring your face up to meet him. Eyes finally meeting without anything between them.

“I loved him, I think, I think I loved him and i'll never get to tell him that” you splutter.

“Everyone did” 

You squint at him “But not like you did, right?”

“Sorry?” Oliver looks confused, eyebrows raised.

You grin at him, eyes not smiling back, wiping the tears from your wet hot cheeks, you puff your chest out.

“I saw the way you looked at him, you were obsessed, Are you gay Oliver? No? heard you slept with Farleigh, and nearly Venetia.” you chuckle “it's just so sad, your just so sad” 

You pout at him. His eyes change, they look through you instead of at you. 

“You're not really shy are you? I thought you were so insipid at first, like a poor child, I almost felt sorry for you, gosh I was so stupid” your head cocks to the side and Oliver's eyes darken.

“But my oh’ my, you so confident arent you, I mean come on, I saw the way Venetia reacted after that night and-” you ponder, “ Well, she actually ate that day , didn't she?it's not like you begged her to either, and now she cant stand you, Felix! well? he’ll hate you forever.” you nod at him, it's almost sincere.

“You play games really well, Oliver, but not me. Never me. Because as much as you pushed I just didn't budge. Couldn't Flatter me Couldnt fuck me.” 

You smile at him, your teeth drag your lips into your mouth and they make a popping sound as they return. You blink at him. 

“Couldnt fuck him either though could you?” you snicker at him.

Olivers quiet, he doesn't blink, a silhouette of stillness. He thinks. It's calculated. 

You go into pat his face before standing but you're stilled, a fierce grip bruises your arm. You stare into his eyes through your lashes.

“You dont scare me” your wrist is still enveloped in his hand.

“No, I do something worse, don't i?” he pulls your arm down trapping you into the stone steps, you wiggle against his grip. He approaches your face. 

“I do, don't i? And you hate it, hate the way i make you feel” 

You shake your head at him, “your-such-a-freak” your voice drips with venom and olivers lips pursed together, his teeth are grinding, and his grip isnt letting up as it tightens, your wrist is pulsing, its white hot pain that thumps against your chest and you want to scream at him but you can't, your eyes widen and he's pulling you in for a kiss his hand against your head, your eyes don't close, you hand shoves hard against his chest, once and then twice and when he finally pulls away, your face is red with anger. 

“You fucking twat” you spit at him.

"You think you can control everything, don't you?" you seethe, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I hope you rot "

Oliver's smirk widens into a malevolent grin. "Hope all you want, baby ,you'll come crawling to me in the end” 

You spin on your heel, not looking back as you return to your bedroom. The door slamming shut behind you, you collapse on to your bed, the smell of felix still present on his knit jumper. Thighs rubbing together, you taste the bitter aftermath of Oliver on your tongue, something stirs in your stomach,unshakeable it's dark and brewing inside you.

Felix’s absence is heavy in the air but Oliver begins to loom over you.

Read (PART TWO)

#saltburn 2023 #salt burn 2023 #salt burn fic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #Felix caton x reader #barry keoghan #Barry Keoghan x reader

[biscuitdragonwithastick]

Wolf in Sheeps Clothing, Another idea

While writing, it's common to come up with multiple ideas centered around one idea. For this prompt, there was quite a few I was considering:

CW: Monsterfucking, noncon, eggpreg, broodmare fetish, pregnancy kink

What if the monster was well known on the farm. You're the rookie out grazing with the sheep when your pushed down and fucked full of eggs. Your fellow farm hands drag you back to the farmhouse and explain that what this monster is. It protects the sheep and cattle and even the farmers. There isn't just one on the farm, probably dozens, but they're all complete replicas of their mimicked animal. You can't tell which one is which and at this point there's no real reason to try and discern the creatures. You're not allowed to kill them and, honestly, the only reason why they haven't tried to kill everyone here is that you're all useful for taking their brood. What does it matter that a few livestock goes missing overnight and a farmhand is left pregnant for the next few months when you some useful monsters at your side more than happy to keep the herd safe.

Or maybe the monster just leaves you there. Hole unplugged. The eggs don't settle within you and quickly try to evacuate the way they came. It takes fifteen minutes of pushing for a pile of eggs to brush between your thighs. That's when your finally able to sit up and get into a more natural position on all fours, letting gravity do all the work. You hate how pleasurable it is to birth these eggs, but you can't get pregnant with them. You'd hate to what birthing them months from now would be like. It takes an hour of groaning and painful spasming orgasms to finally feel like you've gotten rid of them all. You even stuff a hand inside to see if you can force any out manually. You're thankful when you finally get back home to owrest. Terrified of going back to tend to your flock, but shits still got to get done around here. And, as the months dredge on and try to forget what happened, you start to notice that knowing bulge of your stomach growing bigger.

I always love the stories of people being strapped to the underbellies of centaurs and being fucked with every step. It went in a way different direction than the prompt, but imagine if it hadn't left you there. Instead you were assimilated into its body. You hadn't seen the eggs against its facade, no one would be able to see you, stuffed full of tentacles at both ends and gravid with eggs. The other farmhands you worked with would wonder what happened to you, its just like you vanished into thin air. If only they knew you were being fucked among the herd grazing out in field unnoticed. The only time you weren't stuffed is when you were finally allowed to birth the eggs. They quickly grew into their own adult "sheep" and kidnapped their own broodmares to be bred. How many would have to disappear before an investigation occurred? Or maybe you were sacrificed to this creature on purpose.

#Biscuit writing discussion #monster breeding #monsterfucker #monster x reader #terato #eggpreg #ovipositor #cnc k!nk #biscuit snippet

[malewifeharem]

yandere!malleus alphabet

彡- ,, yandere twst malleus alphabet (template from @dear-yandere eheheheh)

cw ⁞ violence, blood, manipulation, just general yandere behaviour??? kinda suggestive in K. not proofread.

an ⁞ feel free to req more of this for other characters only from om! for now :')

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

VERY INTENSE, to say the least. fae are known to be very territorial and possessive and malleus isn't an exception. he likes to shower you with affection and expensive gifts such as jewels or gold and doesn't allow you to 'reject' them. he has no objections to locking you up somewhere he can keep his eyes on you or starting wars with other kingdoms if it means that you'll be his.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

he definitely wouldn't mind getting rid of any nuisances getting in between the both of you but he always makes sure to clean up before you arrive. the scene is extremely gruesome — blood and guts would basically be in every crevice of the room. he only manages to get rid of the stench with his magic, so he tries to not kill people too often, lest he ends up overblotting and harming you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

nope nope nope. it doesn't matter how pathetic you look when you cry, he could never ridicule you like that. you just need to get used to your new environment! can't you see that he really wants the best for you?

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

his gifts and affection will be reciprocated, whether you like it or not. sure, he'll be more lenient if you've only just been captured but you can't keep shunning him away! will tie your wrists and ankles together to get you to stop struggling during naps and cuddle sessions. he has slipped love potions into your food before too.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

you and lilia are probably the only people who know about his... aggressive tendencies. he'll often times weep at your feet inconsolably — crying about how much he loves you and how it hurts when you don't feel the same way. as if that wasn't uncomfortable enough, he'll suddenly start rambling on about how you'd love his tower in briar valley and that you'd have no need to ever step out of it. humans like living in that kind of luxury, right?

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

fight back? against the 5th most powerful magic wielder in the world? yeah, good luck. he would never intentionally harm you, but you're really breaking his heart like this. he simply doesn't understand why you're so upset and just tries to calm you down to the best of his abilities. this is just a small lover's spat, it'll all be over soon!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

he does not find this funny, he takes it very seriously. what's wrong with what you have now? do you not like his gifts? why do you keep trying to run away? he's very confused and hurt — nevertheless, he always manages to catch you, leaving you right back where you started.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

before your abduction, you were still the human transfer student at NRC, you were still allowed the freedom to talk to anyone you wanted. malleus knew you and leona were quite close — the lion male having a small liking towards you. he was already quite irked at the sight, but he snapped when you hugged the lion, enchanting the whole vicinity with his signature spell — causing everyone to fall into a deep slumber. that's when he took the opportunity to lock you up in his room and you've been there since.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

he hopes to marry you one day and have you rule briar valley with him as his rightful queen. he definitely wants to have a family with you too, he does need to continue his royal fae bloodline!

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

YES. he tries to talk to you and hear whatever complaints you have but it's all in vain. he refuses to believe that you loathe him. he'll stand there in silence before quickly excusing himself — you don't see him for a few days. what does he do during this time? oh i don't know... maim whatever friends you have left? (ehe!)

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

he's very sweet. he has never felt so strongly for anyone before and he's going to give all of his love to you! he's constantly touching you, whether or not it's wrapping his arms around you or marking you up with bites. it's how fae show affection for their loved one! he'll charm you with his honeyed words — praising you when you're being obedient in the daytime and gently lulling you to sleep by night.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

before your abduction, he'd slip beautifully handwritten letters into your locker. however, it has no sender — your only clue as to who it was being the bright green wax seal. you thought it was just a random diasommnia student and didn't think much about them till the contents of these letters started becoming increasingly disturbing. saccharine poems of love and his promised reveal turned to bitter jealousy and rage at your 'infidelity' to him. how dare you speak to other students, especially those from his own house! you stopped receiving letters entirely but malleus suddenly started showing up at ramshackle dorm more often.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

sort of? lilia is the only other person who knows about his treatment of you. to everyone else, he's still unapproachable and cold. only you get to see him all pathetic and vulnerable. (manfailure)

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

being locked up in his room means zero contact with the outside world — you wonder how ace, deuce and grim are doing. solitude was enjoyable sometimes, sure, but you haven't seen anyone who isn't malleus for weeks. imagine the horror when even he stops showing up! this silent treatment usually ends within a few days because it breaks his heart to not speak to his darling too.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

you're pretty much deprived of social interaction. i hope you have an interest in gargoyles.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

he's surprisingly patient. his punishments are all quite tame — none of them being harmful to you. he understands if you need more time to get used to your new life but make him wait too long and he might slip a love potion into your food!

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

no. just no. if you died, he'll find a way to resurrect you — charm, potion, curse, spell, anything. trying to escape from him isn't something feasible for a human. you're stuck with him forever!

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

your cries of sorrow does bring him a sense of guilt and regret but the thought of letting you openly roam free again brings him more rage and worry. try convincing him to go out with you to a secluded area — he might agree if he's in a good mood!

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

poor dragon boi has lived for almost two centuries with no one he can consider a friend :( everyone's too scared or cautious of him to talk normally. so when a sweet fragile human like you treats him so nicely, he might just tear up. especially since you continued to do so after learning of his identity.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

( already kinda answered in C and F)

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

(i don't think so? define classic yandere :'D)

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

he's so patient and kind, if you play your cards well, you might be able to convince him to let you out for a little while — under his supervision, of course.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

intentionally, no. never! he has definitely damaged (killed) whatever social life you had before and your freedom but it was mostly unintended! (yea ok malleus...)

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

he likes to think that you two are equals — you as his bride, wife, future queen. he treasures whatever shred of affection you give him but i don't think he'd ever reach the point of kissing the ground you walk on or anything like that.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

(read H) in order to get to that point, he's already been tolerating your 'unfaithfulness' for a few months.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

probably. he already uses love potions on you, who's to say he won't make it permanent?

#twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x yuu #twst yuu #x reader #twst diasomnia #yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere alphabet #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader

[heartshapedcigaretteburns]

Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea. 

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can.  Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction. 

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you. 

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse. 

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are. 

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

#cod fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #mob boss natasha romanoff #reader insert #mcu women #mcu fanfiction #angst #angst with comfort

[mikobeautifulheart]

Taken

Geto takes you back, whether you wanted to be or not.

TW: Kidnaping...that's it. oh and very very little editing.

"Suguru, I can't go with you."

"Why not?" He asked, the fact that he was genuinely puzzled by your reply took you aback.

"What you did...killing that entire village isn't how you fix the world." You said with wide eyes.

You didn't know how to feel, its almost like he had lost it, like there was nothing wrong with murdering innocent people. Was it anger? Shock? Out of all the people to turn on you, Suguru?

"Y/n you don't understand, the sooner we get rid of all those monkeys the faster we can have the life we want, the life we deserve." He said, eye brows furrowed in frustration.

Couldn't you see? All those nights you spent together about your future, all the times you told him how much you waited for the day all the curses disappeared; the opportunity was right there Infront of you, so why wouldn't you just take it.

"I know I want a curse free world but we can't be free if we have that much blood on our hands. Were supposed to protect people who can't protect themselves, You know that!" You said taking a step back just looking at Geto's face.

His eyes sunken and the last of his hope died in that moment.

"Oh come on y/n, wake up! We have a chance to finally have the life WE want. WHY won't you just take it." He said now showing how much he had changed.

The Geto you knew was gentle and kind. He had patience and wanted to change the world. But not like this.

"I'm sorry Suguru I can't, I don't know who you are anymore..." You said.

"No, y/n please you have to see-" He stretched one arm out gripping your shoulder before you could move away.

"Suguru let go." You said.

"You just need to see the truth, if we just kill them all we can be free." He said grabbing your wrist with his other hand.

"No, Suguru I don't want to do this- Let go." You said trying to pull yourself free, but you knew it was no use because of how strong he was.

"Let go Suguru, she said she doesn't want to go"

You felt a broad chest pressed against your back taking Geto's hand off of your shoulder.

You look up to see Gojo eyeing Geto.

"You guys are sick, one day you'll see, I'll fix the world and we can all be happy again. Until then don't get in my way or I'll kill you." Geto said letting go of your wrist roughly and walking off into the crowd.

Gojo's arm was lifted in front of you and you saw that he was going to hollow purple him.

"Please don't kill him Satoru. He's just..." You felt the tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"I-I can't do it." He said putting his arm down in defeat.

"I'll never be able to kill him."

***

It had been years since you've seen Geto, it was hard to not think about him from time to time but you got used to it. Some nights you just lied awake thinking about ways you could have made him stay or what it would have been like if Gojo didn't step in.

Sure it was sad but over time you started to let go, you became a teacher at Jujutsu tech and you still went on missions. You had an amazing class with students who adored you. Great Co workers, Shoko got her own clinic in the school, Gojo was a teacher to and on the rare occasion you would still see Nanami too. Life wasn't bad. Not at all.

"Y/N we need you to stay at Jujutsu tech and help out the first years." Yaga said as he explained everybody's rolls.

You just came back from an overseas mission after an emergency call.

"What's going on? Are they all in danger?" You asked. Just arriving you were tiered and knew nothing about this mission.

"It doesn't matter right now, we need you to protect the first years, especially that Okkotsu kid, okay?"

You sighed, no one was going to tell you anything.

Meanwhile in a class room far from the meeting.

"Everybody, you can't tell Y/n anything about this okay? As far as she know there's an unknown and unidentified threat that is after you guys, lets keep it that way." Gojo said standing near the door as if he were about to go to war.

There was going to be a load of questions until you suddenly opened the door, almost bumping into Gojo.

"What's going on?" You said looking up at Gojo and then at all the students sitting at their desks.

"There's some sort of unidentified threat, we don't know if its a curse or a sorcerer yet. I have to go search for the source, in the meantime you need to look out for theses guys." Gojo said pointing at the students.

"Uh- okay..." there was defiantly something he wasn't telling you but due to the gravity of the situation you left it until another time.

Gojo left and it was just you and your students.

"So? What's he not telling me." You said sternly looking at your students.

"Well we know Gojo sensei is off to kill the source..." Panda said hoping it would put you at a little more easy.

"And?"

"Tuna"

"No, I want to know, what's the source or cause of this threat because I don't get urgent calls overseas when there's a special grade here and every other sorcerer in the area."

"The white haired idiot said we can't say." Maki said, legs over her desk with her arms crossed.

"We don't know why though..." Yuta said.

"Why? I wouldn't know either."

"Maybe because he was afraid you would find out about me" A low voice said as the class room door slid open.

There he was standing in the door way just smiling. Geto was taller now, you could tell he had grown into an adult and this wasn't just a game anymore.

"Sugu-Geto" You said eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Awwww don't give me the cold shoulder now y/n." He said with a smirk walking into the class room and closing the door behind him.

"Don't go near my students. If you so much as put a scratch on them i'll-"

"Relax, i'm not really here for them. I'm here to tell you my offer still stands y/n, join me. Come back and we can fix the world."

All the first years stood up and had their weapons up as you took a step back from him.

"I told you before, I don't want to fix the world your way." You hissed as you felt the cursed energy in the room grow stronger.

"Everybody leave the room, I'll take care of this" You said, eyes not leaving Geto.

"We can't, Gojo sensei told us not to." Yuta said.

You turn your head to them, they really were everything to you, maybe the only ones that cared for you at this point.

You looked at all of them one last time before you just smiled at them.

"I'll be alright." You said before you remember just blacking out.

Your eyes slowly opened, you felt something soft under you and a warm light. The more you blinked the clearer the setting became, you slowly came to realise that this was not a room you were familiar with, it defiantly wasn't your room or Shoko's clinic.

You sat up but the pain going to your head made you lie back down. What the hell happened?

"Good morning- or afternoon really, you must have been working real hard to be that tired" a voice said making your head turn toward the direction.

You saw Geto sitting in a chair just looking at you, waiting for something.

"Am I dead?" You groaned as you tried to put the pillow over your head to stop the light burn your eyes.

"No, your just facing the side affects of my curse." He said leaning forward closer to your face.

"Wh-What?" You groaned pulling yourself against the bed frame.

"Where am I Geto." You said almost slumping forward.

"So you really didn't hear anything. After you left your students with those reassuring words I brought you back to my estate. Your sick y/n. You don't know how bad this world is, I know you don't want to but we have to kill all those monkeys." He said.

"So you...you kidnapped me? That's you solution? You didn't touch my students did you, you better not have or I swear to God I'll-"

"You don't know what your doing y/n" He sighed as he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Remeber old times when we would talk in eachotheres dorm and you'd play with my hair and I'd lay on your chest. What happend to those times?" He asked looking straight at you.

"You killed people Suguru, out of everybody YOU killed people" you said emotionless.

He leaned in closer to you nearly meeting your face but when you tried to pull away your body wouldn't move.

His lips practically hovered over yours at this point, you felt so helpless, so trapped all you could do was sit there and take it. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt a single hot tear rub down your cheek.

His breath hitched as he paused.

"But that's you see me as. A killer. Dont worry I won't do anything until you are back to yourself again." He said pulling away letting the cold air go through.

"After all your leg is chained to the bed so your not going anywhere for a long time." He got up and left out of a door that you just noticed.

You sat there in silence. All you could do was sit there in silence and let the tears fall. The Suguru you knew was gone, in his place was a selfish kidnapper who couldn't take no for an answer.

"Curse you Suguru" you muttered tightening your fists asylum finally felt the metal chain around your right ankle.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: I uh... This is so random but my request are like down to 2 and I want more to write so... You know... Request? Plz.

#suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n

[socialist-microwave-laser]

hi, recently i learned from your blog about the true meaning of zionism and what it actually means to jewish people, so i dont use the word zionist anymore and now i say "pro israel people" (but is that still problematic?). ive read from a couple palestinians who expressed their frustration about being policed on using the word "zionist" and having it taken away from them, as it is what they've called their oppressors since the occupation began. and as for the pro pali circle, especially the one that im in, we all support jewish self-determination but we do not support the state of israel because it was built on the nakba. we don't want "death to the israelis" and we also believe that the state of israel needs to be dismantled because its existence is what continues to oppress the palestinians.

so i explained all this because im not exactly sure if there is any antisemitism in this line of thinking? i want to be pro pali but i dont want to be antisemitic while im at it. i wasnt sure who to ask about this but since im learning a lot from you, i hope its okay that im asking you about this. thank you

hi! i hope it's alright i took a bit gathering my thoughts on this, i wanted to make sure i had a good array of opinions to give your response the proper attention it deserves. i ran my ideas past some people and gathered some additions from them, so hopefully it's at least a start

i'm gonna put this under a cut bc i just know it'll be long. sorry in advance about all my parentheticals lmao

first, i want to mention that for palestinians specifically, i honestly don't blame them for not accounting for the wide spectrum of usage of the word zionism. zionism is an incredibly present and specific threat in their lives, even if it is a very very narrow zionism in the wider scheme of things. when you're spending all your time in fear and trying to survive oppression or trying to just keep yourself alive, you don't exactly have time for nuance. my gripe is with non-palestinians who do have the luxury to be nuanced and take a step back and learn about this sort of thing

second, don't be complacent about your circle all supporting jewish self determination. if there's anything i've learned in the last six months and five days, it's that a lot of leftist spaces, even ones that say the right things and have the right discussions, still have very antisemitic biases. a lot of leftists (at least in the circles i run in) are always going on about needing to be self-questioning, self-examining, open to accepting that they may be wrong, open to """unlearning biases""" but there's a line a mile long between talk like that and actually doing it. i don't know your community, but i can't begin to count the number of friends i've lost lately. just don't get complacent about this, please

third, some people identify using the phrase "pro-israel" to talk about being for its ideas rather than its actions (even tho that's not really the language i use). there are a lot of people (a lot of jews!!!) who love the state of israel and have been advocating against its actions and policies since day one. my rabbi gave me a list of books to read that address these other visions of a medinas yisrael that is more focused on coexistence and justice, if you're interested i can attach it.

i also want to note that "pro-israel people" includes the tel aviv protestors, who have been protesting against the government's attempt to get rid of democracy. all the organizations i list below can be called "pro-israel people" one way or another. i highly recommend just saying what you mean: "people who support the disproportionate response of the israeli government and military," "people who support the marginalization of palestinians and non-israelis in the region," that sort of thing (thank you @vhenadahls). a lot of zionists, "pro-israel people" are your comrades, and we need all the help we can get. don't alienate who you don't have to

i also want to bring up, since we're talking about the jewish definitions of things, the meaning of "israel" is also important to note here am israel – the people of israel, aka what we now call "jews" b'nei israel – the children of israel (same meaning as am israel) eretz israel – the land of israel medinas/medinat israel – the state of israel it's important to mention that in most jewish texts and prayers, "israel" tends to refer to the people. i can't speak for anybody else but i know personally when i see someone identify as "anti-israel" my brain understands it as how it's used in jewish spaces, even when i logically know they tend to mean the state. that's just a personal thing tho, idk if this is something that also happens to others

fourth, and this gets into me-being-an-anarchist territory so head's up haha. i think like "we don't support [state] bc it was built on violence"—on one hand, yes and therefore you need to apply that to all states that fit such a mold with the same amount of vigor instead of only focusing on The Jewish One (tho if you ask me, an anarchist, i would say that violence is inherent in every state, and therefore every state should be dismantled). and if we're going that route, are you going to decide what takes precedence based on number of people dying a day? total number of deaths, or number per capita? or are you going based on length of time a conflict has been going on? whatever you do, don't base it off whatever's on your timeline the most. most people have already let ukraine leave their minds, and yemen and sudan never entered it to begin with. here's the acled's conflict watchlist for the year 2024 (side note, rather wild seeing the us on this list lmao), i recommend you take a look through this and really think about where your priorities should lie, or how to even choose. it's something worth thinking about, even if/when you decide that israel/palestine is the best usage of your time/energy [link]

okay but. on the other hand. even if you do all that, what are you going to do about it? great, you believe a state is bad. how are you going to make the world better? how do we balance that with the fact that for the past 2000 years most jews have been getting kicked out of one place and the next, and the hope of zionism is that finally jews will be able to rest and live somewhere. if we're proposing the introduction of a new state apparatus, how do we accommodate that (incredibly understandable!!!) jewish generational trauma? (side note while making challah today i started listening to an audiobook of "people love dead jews" by dara horn that i think is a really good book for other reasons obvi but you may personally be interested bc it is a very good expanation for why so many jews identify as zionists) how do we create a state that doesn't depend on the subjugation of The Bad Guys? how do we ensure that palestinians, israelis, armenians, the bedouin, christians, jews, muslims, are all represented and empowered? how do we set up a framework where those groups can not only coexist, but that those who were once kicked out may have an opportunity to return?

i think a lot of people kinda see "[state] is built on violence and needs to be dismantled" and then pat themselves on the backs and say good job everyone we did it, but the more important thing is "what next?" not just "we're yelling at underpaid starbucks employees and harassing our local city council to release a statement advocating for a ceasefire" which does NOTHING politically or socially, it's just fucking performative. how are you going to personally help take the steps necessary to not only dismantle that state but also make it do that in the absence of the state there won't be a shit ton of people in fear and desperate and who don't know how to live with the people around them and without creating a power vacuum that will inevitably lead to this cycle repeating for the hundredth time since 722 BCE and the assyrian overthrow of the kingdom of israel

in the words of another friend: "“What does it mean to support ‘Jewish self-determination’ while still calling for the dismantling of Israel? Through what means, in a time where we are constricted by nation-states, could an exceptionally small and marginalized minority population that is geographically and ideologically surrounded by nations that have called for its extermination, have self-determination, which requires basic safety, if the only nation-state designed to be a safe haven for them no longer exists? Why are we starting, of all of the nations currently engaged in explicit, harmful violence against others, with this very small country as the one that must cease to exist for its crimes?”"

i'm honestly not trying to make you feel hopeless, but i also think these are important questions we all have to deal with right now. in a way, i'm lucky—i'm an advocate in this subject because i'm becoming jewish, and through encountering antisemitism and disinformation, i've become kinda forced to start doing all the research i can. others can't answer that so easily. my recommendation is finding something concrete that you can address and focus on. for me, it's become facilitating and having difficult conversations about this very thing, to help emphasize the humanity of everyone in this situation and help us hopefully learn how to live together

i recommend looking into groups like: breaking the silence – an organization focused on providing both current and former members of the idf the ability to anonymously talk about their experiences in the occupied territories b'tselem – a group to advocate for human rights in palestinian territories and to document any violations combatants for peace – coalition of ex-combatants in the israeli/palestinian conflict who have come forward to work towards ending the israeli occupation and advocating for peace in their shared land the forgiveness project – this is a uk-based group focused on using stories of both victims and perpetrators to explore alternatives to seeking revenge. i cannot beg everyone enough to please watch this discussion they hosted between pcff's rami elhanan and bassam aramin hadash – leftist political coalition working towards the establishment of a palestinian state alongside medinas yisrael, worker's rights, and much more mesarvos – young israelis refusing the idf draft parents circle families forum – organization of israelis and palestinians who have lost loved ones in this too-long conflict, focused on promoting dialogue the road to recovery – organization to take chronically ill people from gaza and the west bank to israeli hospitals so they can get treatment standing together – israeli-palestinian organization advocating for peace, equality, and social justice this is not ulpan – joint hebrew-arabic school working to break down cultural divides by first addressing the language divide zochros – organization advocating for the recognition of the nakba and instating the palestinian right to return

#tsiyyonus definition #anarchist #palestinian liberation #jumblr #jewish history #medinas yisrael #עם ישראל חי #peace activism #radical compassion

[celestialwhoree]

Mustang 🌵🏜️

The morning after dinner with Simon, you sit patiently on your porch swing, a chipped mug of coffee clutched in one hand, a pen knife balanced between the fingers of the other. Fortunately, the mornings aren't yet sweltering enough to wake covered in sweat and kick off the thin sheet from your bed. The sun still rises languorously over the horizon, and you wake with it.

Simon Riley is surprisingly pleasant, and you begrudgingly admit to yourself that Marlene had been right, perhaps you do need to get out more, meet new people, get over it. Perhaps you like him because he's like you. He's quiet, peaceful on the surface, undoubtedly roiling underneath. It's impossible to miss when you know the feeling so well. Tyres crunching on gravel snap you from your reverie, the black truck, some shiny new ford pulling in your driveway, cab doors swinging open to let its driver out.

"Nice." An appreciative eyebrow is raised in the direction of the truck, amusement barely hidden at its cleanliness. You struggle to imagine him spending meticulous hours cleaning the vehicle - when you do picture Simon Riley shirtless and suntanned, working meticulously to rid the truck of dust and dirt, you internally chastise yourself before walking down the rickety porch steps to greet him. "You left your pot." His gruff accent feels so odd to you still, so out of place whilst still being so somehow pleasant, sending shivers down your spine. "Shit. So I did." The enamel of your Dutch Oven is cool against your hands, chilled from the AC in his car. Still not used to the warmth, you suppose.

"You want a drink?" You hum as you wordlessly make your way back up the porch steps, Ness nipping at your heels as you usher Simon and the collie into your cozy kitchen, quick to shut the screen door behind you. "I got sweet tea, coffee, lemonade." "You got earl grey?" "Do I look like the type to have earl grey?" "Black coffee then, please."

Ness seems to like him. Good judge of character, you think. You hope. Maybe she likes him because of how similar he is to you, and you can't help but appreciate the newcomer as he pets the bicoloured ears of your pet. Your place is exactly how he pictured it'd be, cozy in a lived in sort of way, knickknacks scattered across the countertops and shelves and the occasional picture of what he can only assume is you as a kid strewn haphazardly. The coffee maker whirs quietly to life as you busy yourself with retrieving a plate of biscuits from the fridge, chucked in there to avoid the occasional fly that managed to get through the screen in the rushed moments where you failed to close it all the way.

"Biscuit?" "Just coffee is fine." "Your loss." You quip back, putting the plate back in its rightful place, by which time the coffee has brewed and you pour Simon a chipped mug full. "So, the fastback." Simon manages a little awkwardly, dwarfing your mug between his palms. "Ah, the elephant in my garage." The crappy joke makes you actually cringe, eyelid twitching as you angle your head back to the door, making your way to the garage, in which you pull the cover from the red painted mustang with an awkwardly executed flourish.

Upon assessing the car, Simon grunts out a quiet "Shit", turning to you with an almost concerned look. "You pay for this?" It seems weirdly as though he's mad, like anyone who charged you for this useless hunk of metal and rubber had committed some kind of sin, like they'd kicked a puppy or shunned god away. "No. No, guy said if I could fix it up it was mine." "Good. Cause it's worth fucking naught."

Simon spends the morning tinkering with the car. Pushes it out of the garage with pure brute strength so that he can look at it properly, says he'll fix your garage light whilst he's at it. When he appears at the kitchen door like a lost dog, cautious to shut the screen door, he can't help but appreciate the way you turn to face him, leaning the swell of your hip against the countertop. "The biscuit offer still open?" "You're fixing my shitty car and you already looked at my garage light. At this point I owe you more than just biscuits." You chuff.

The veteran can't help himself but to ogle your ass as you bend in front of your fridge to retrieve the biscuit plate, along with a jug of sweet tea and two chilled glasses.

"Prepared." "Ah, figured you'd get thirsty at some point."

There's something pleasant about the quiet of it all. Reminds him why he moved out here in the first place. The quiet nicker of horses and the sight of a beautiful woman making him lunch after spending hours out in the unforgiving heat. It makes him feel weirdly grateful, something he hasn't felt in a while. He's at your side as you rustle up some other food, something more substantial for a man of his size who's just spent four hours in the steadily boiling heat. He likes the way you don't flinch when a tentative arm slips around your waist to grab the glasses you'd set out on the counter, moving them to the table before returning to press his shoulder against yours.

"Need me to do anythin' else?" "Just stand there and be hot." Slips out before you can stop yourself, and your hand flies to cover your mouth, all whilst he stands, massive arms crossed against his chest with a smug. "Yes, Ma'am."

ᯓ★

Today felt like such a good day to write these two I promise I didn't forget about them!! I love them!! They're my emotionally wounded babies!!!

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x f!reader #Simon ghost Riley x yn #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #Simon Riley x yn #Simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x y/n #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #celestialwhoree #cod #call of duty #ghost #gunslinger ghost #gunslinger Simon riley

[allkindfangirl]

Reader being taken instead of kie to singhs house and having to share a bed with rafe, building a wall of pillows between each other but as soon as she falls asleep he gets rid of the pillows and pulls her into his arms and holding on tightly and when she wakes up and realizes that the wall is gone and he’s holding her she just snuggles closer to him making him confess his love for her and then kiss the crap outta her

Forced proximity

Enemies to lovers but he’s really loved her all along

Tag me once it’s up? Thanks!

pairing: rafe cameron x reader warnings: violence (?), season 3 spoilers kinda

This is a based off three requests I got that were all very similar, so I figured to just combine them. Hope that's okay and y'all like it.

requst 1 by @dearreader03 request 2 by anonym: "reader gets kidnapped instead of kiara and maybe reader gets hurt while they are bringing her in and rafe is worried out her and they sleep on the bed together" request 3 by anonym: "hi, i had an idea for a rafe x reader where y/n is kidnapped instead of kiara and she is stuck with rafe. They are exes because Y/n left him after knowing about Peterkin, but she still has feelings for him and she tries to resist him but fails😩❤️"

It felt like a nightmare. The initial joy about going back home was gone completely when you found yourself in the back of a truck, surrounded by men with guns. You didn't know where your friends were, if they would find you and most important, you didn't know what would happen to you.

When the truck stopped in front of the big mansion you felt like this was your chance. Somehow you managed to hop off the open truck but you didn't make it far. You knees hit the ground first, followed by your face. You heard shouting, then felt arms grabbing on yours to bring you up to your feet.

"Don't try shit like this again.", you heard behind you, then you were dragged towards the house.

You didn't know why you were here, what these people wanted from you but you were sure it had something to do with the gold. You quickly realized that it didn't make any sense to try and run away when you stepped into the house and were dragged up the stairs. Every single door was guarded. There was no way to escape.

Still, you tried to remember the way through the house, but there you were being pushed into the room at the end of the corridor.

"Fucking assholes.", you shouted as they shut the door behind you and locked it.

It took you a moment to realize that you weren't alone in the room. The man was standing in front of the window, back towards you. He wore a white shirt and his hair was buzzed.

When he turned around your heart sunk. Those blue eyes were one of a kind. A kind you knew so well.

"You got to be kidding me.", you grunted. "This can't be happening."

"Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here? Are you hurt?" The worry in Rafes eyes spoke volumes as he came rushing over to you and looked at your scraped up face.

"I'm fine Rafe."

"Did they fucking hurt you?" His eyes were big from concern. The though of someone touching and hurting you drove him crazy.

"No. It's nothing.", you said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore your hurting knees and wounds in your face.

"I knew you had something to do with this."

"What are you talking about? I don't." He looked at you, and hoped that for once you would believe him. That for once you wouldn't think that he was the bad one in the situation.

"Why are we here?" Your eyes were cold as you tried to stay calm. He had to know something but he shook his head, only telling you that it had something to do with the cross.

"Why, out of all people, am I stuck with you?" You sounded desperate. You had hoped to not see him again anytime soon. Your feelings just confused you more and you hated it.

You didn't regret your relationship with Rafe for one second. You knew that you really had loved each other, but still, you couldn't forgive him for what he did. You didn't wanted to know this Rafe.

"Don't say that." There was sadness in his voice. It hurt him to know how much you disliked him for what he did, it hurt him that you couldn't even bare being in a room with him.

"I can't just act like nothing happened, Rafe."

"I can't either.", he said desperate. He came closer to you who were sitting on the large bed in the room. He sunk to his knees and you stomach flipped by the sight of him on his knees in front of you. It brought back so many memories and feelings. He looked up to you.

"You- You don't understand." He slurred out, running his hands over his short hair. He didn't understand how he could be so nervous just because of you.

"I- You don't know how sorry I am."

You had heard those words a thousand times before. It was hard to believe that this time they would really mean something.

It cut like knifes. He was everything you needed and still, it destroyed everything you had worked on so hart. To get over him, to hate him.

- The hours passed until you saw the sun setting through the window. The two of you knew you had to get some rest, not knowing what would happen the next days.

"I can sleep on the floor.", you heard him mumble from the other side of the room.

"Don't be silly. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

It felt like old times as he snuck under the covers with you and you hoped he wouldn't hear your heart beat.

He scoffed at the wall of pillows between your bodies. It was safe to say that you didn't trusted him - and yourself.

Rafe just couldn't fall asleep this night. A thousand thoughts were running through his head. How could he get the two of you out of here? How could he protect you? He couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt again.

This wall of pillows between the two of you was getting on his nerves. Just like you had said earlier, it wasn't the first time the two of you shared a bed. He thought about all the nights you had fallen asleep in his arms. The nights were his thoughts weren't as loud as they always were, the nights where he could just be Rafe and let himself fall.

He tossed the pillows to the floor. It seemed ridicilous to lay next to you and not have his arm around you. It was all he needed in this moment.

He slung his arm around your body, his hands touching your skin. It was a feeling he had dreamed about a thousand times. His face got lost in your hair and he pulled you closer to his body.

-

It felt normal for a moment when you woke up the next morning. The sun was coming through the windows and you felt a strong arm around your hips that felt so familiar. Then it all came back. The nightmare that you couldn't just wake up from.

"It's okay. I'm here." Rafe whispered softly in your ear as he felt your body panicking.

You managed to turn round in his arms. His eyes were open. He had spend the last half an hour just laying there with you in his arms. His eyes landed on your lips, then wandered back to your eyes.

It surprised you to not see a grin on his lips but tears forming in his eyes. There he was - broken Rafe that nobody had seen as often as you did.

"I know you hate me. But I love you y/n."

"You're wrong. I should hate you.", you whispered.

A part of you knew that this was wrong, that you had promised yourself to never go back to him. But you didn't know what life had to offer at this point, so you could at least let yourself fall for a moment.

You nodded as he looked at your lips again, his eyes questioning if it was okay to kiss you. His lips were soft, just like they had always been and just like you had pictured them in your dreams.

"I'm getting us out of here. I promise."

You knew he meant every word he said. You knew he would do anything for you and would protect you with his life.

-

really hope you like it xx

my masterlist

#rafe cameron #obx3 #outer banks #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #angst #blurb #masterlist #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine

[punishereditz]

Wannabe

Pairing: La Knight x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Smut. Edging. Fingering. P in V. Rough sex. Dirty talk. Praise kink. Spanking kink. Marking kink. Choking kink.

AN: I am so very sorry for not posting. I have been very busy lately, but I'm going to try and make time for writing and get back to posting stories regularly.

Word count: 2k

Summary: Knight didn't like what you had to say about him. So, he decided to teach you a lesson.

~

Before you could even celebrate your win against Auska, La Knight's theme song played throughout the arena. Knight walking out in an arrogant way and clapping his hands together as if he cared.

"Congrats Sweetheart." He said as he walked down to the ring. A big cocky grin on his lips. His eyes on you as he stepped over the ropes, and he took one step. Now standing in front of you. "What are you doing?"

"What? I can't come out and congratulate you after that win?" His voice was laced with seduction. His eyes heavy on you. Heavy on your body that was glistening with sweat. Your breath still a little heavy from the match.

"Congratulations sweetheart." He said again and he gave you a wink. Making you cringe, but you put on an act. You looked up at him through your lashes. A sweet, innocent smile on your face.

"Thank you. You didn't have to come out here." You paused for a moment. "You know... it means... nothing to me." Your face dropped as you said the word nothing. Losing the sweet smile and Knight losing the cocky grin.

"Wait. You, you really didn't expect me to care, did you?" You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head to the side as you looked up at him and his broken ego. "Do you want to know what I really think of you?" You leaned a little closer to him and you didn't wait for him to respond.

"You... you are a Stone Cold and The Rock wannabe." Your words were harsh, and they cut deep for him. The air between the two of you so thick it could be cut with a knife. "I've known you for a while now, and I have to say, I don't know if I really know you. I mean, you definitely don't know yourself. You don't know what originality is because your too busy trying to be someone else! Your so worried about being this megastar, you gotta steal from the best there is just to have a good bit." The more you talked, the madder he got. His blood was boiling. You hit a nerve and you hit it hard.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He growled and you chuckled. You laughed in his face. Which only fueled his anger.

"Oh, I don't know what I'm talking about? You can't even look at me right now and deny it. You and I both know that you are nothing more than a copycat." You pointed a finger at him, and he narrowed his eyes at you. "You go and take other people's gimmicks just so you can be liked. Not to mention how you use their moves."

"You better shut your mouth." He growled and took a step closer. Getting in your face. Already long since getting rid of the mic so only you could hear him.

"Peoples elbow. Stone Cold's stunner. Let me continue." You tilted your head up. Getting in his face as you explained into further detail how he is a wannabe. "The way you work the mic. That little head tilt back and the shouting? Sure does look like The Rock to me. Oh, and, what... what's that little catchphrase of yours? Yeah? Yeah! That... that sounds like... what? What? What?" You raised your voice as you called him out. Practically shouting as you said what.

"That's enough." He snarled and his breath was heavy now. He was fuming and that only made it more amusing for you.

"You know, under this whole persona of yours, I'm sure-" Before you could even finish your sentence, he snatched the microphone out of your hand and threw it across the ring. "I told you to shut your mouth." He snarled, towering over you. pointing a finger in your face. Getting closer to you, making you take a step back.

"What are you going to do about it?" You challenged him. Taking a step forward. Not backing down from him. That making him even more furious.

"Don't make me drag you out of this ring." His words made you smirk. "You wouldn't." He chuckled and that made you furrow your brows confused. Then, suddenly, he swept you off your feet. Throwing you over his shoulder like you were a rag doll. Climbing out of the ring with you draped over his shoulder; he walked up the ramp and went backstage. Carrying you through the locker rooms kicking and screaming. Finally putting you down after he entered his dressing room. Locking the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You shouted at him, and he walked the short distance over to you. "No. no. no. no. What's wrong with you?!" He shouted in your face. The veins in his neck popping.

"You go and humiliate me in front of thousands of people, then ask what's wrong with me?!" He shouted and he kept stepping forward until you were backed up against the wall. "Oh, tough shit! You think I just did that out of the coldness of my heart? No. I was told to say that!" You shouted right back at him, and he rested his hand on the wall. His hand right by your head.

"You had no right." He spoke in a low tone as he put a finger in your face, and you scoffed. "I was doing my job. I'm sorry that you can't handle that." You matched his tone. Tilting your chin up as you spoke and watched as fumes practically steamed off of him, he was so furious. His breath heavy and hot against your skin.

"You always do what these managers tell you to do?"

"So I won't get fired. Yes."

"Are you going to do what I tell you to do?" He leaned closer to you until his body was pressed against yours. Your breath hitching and his question catching you off guard.

"Are you going to do as your told?" He asked. Narrowing his eyes at you. Noticing how his words got to you. But, you didn't let that moment last long. "No." You challenged and a mischievous smirk spread across his lips.

"You need to be taught a lesson." He grabbed you by the arms and turned you around so that your back was to him. With one hand, he pinned your arms above your head and with his other hand, he slowly moved it along your side. His hand stopping at your thigh. Then, you gasped as he slapped your ass hard. His hand then massaging your ass. Squeezing it. He got frustrated because of your wrestling gear in the way. So, with one quick motion, he pulled your pants down.

Tossing them across the room. His hands going back to their original place. Holding you down and his hand slowly rubbing your ass. His hands traveling up your side then back down. Smacking your ass again. He slapped his hand against your skin a few times, then he moved his hand. Untying your top. Slowly pulling it off of you. His hands kneeing at your breast for a few minutes before his hands moved down your stomach. Hovering over your pussy. He carefully ran his fingers through your lips. Slowly moving his finger up and down. Making you breathe a little heavier. He slowly dipped his finger into your lips. The tip of his finger going straight to your clit.

Applying light pressure as he moved his finger in circles on your sensitive clit. Making your eyes roll to the back of your head and soft moans leave your mouth. He loved every second of this. "Look at you..." He whispered in your ear, and he quickened his movements. Making you moan a little louder and your legs shake. Then, after a minute or two, he slowed it down to a torturous pace. "You want me to make you come, don't you?" He whispered in your ear and when you didn't respond, he quickened his movements again but just as quickly slowed it down.

"Say it." His circles on your clit were so slow, there might as well not be any movement. "I want you to let me come." You panted and he chuckled. "Good girl." He then brought the speed back up. A moan slipping from your lips as you gripped onto the side of his legs. Resting your head on his shoulder. He tilted his head towards you, and he kissed your neck. Biting at your skin. Building your climax up and right when you're about to come, your body shaking- he stops. Pulling his hand away and moving his mouth away from you. You groaned in frustration, but before you could do anything, he smacked your ass and picked you up.

Carrying you over to the desk. He put you down and turned you around. Laying you down on the table. He grabbed your legs. Putting your knees on the table as well so that your ass was up in the air. On display for him and at the perfect height for him. He ran his fingers over your pussy a few times. His thumb rubbing your entrance. He then started to spank you. Slapping his hand against your ass. Leaving your skin red and marked. He slowly pulled his pants down. Grabbing a condom and slipping it onto his long cock. Then he rubbed his cock through your lips before he pushes it in. Slamming his cock into you. Bottoming out. The both of you moaning.

He stayed still for a moment, giving both of you time to adjust. Your walls clenched around his cock. He slowly pulled out, then he harshly thrusted back into you. Slowly starting to pound into you. Slamming his cock into you. His breath getting heavier as he groaned. Gripping onto your ass as he pounded into you. Making your stomach twist in pleasure and your eyes squinched shut. You could feel your climax quickly building again and you moaned out when he grabbed you by your hair. Pulling you up so that your back was against his chest.

He cussed under his breath and continued pounding into you. His hand coming up and wrapping around your throat. Holding your neck. His other hand came down and he started to rub fast circles on your clit. Between that and the new angle he was fucking you from, it was all overwhelming. And he knew that. He knew that you could barely take it. He knew that you were close by the way your body was shaking and the way you were moaning. So, just to be mean, he slowed down. Slowing his fingers down to the pace he was fucking you with. Which, it was too slow for you. All that build up just for him to practically come to a stop. "I said I was going to teach you a lesson." He whispered in your ear and kept the slow pace.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He slowed his movements down even more. "Yes." You panted and you tried to grind against him, but he didn't let you. "Speak up, sweetheart." You groaned in frustration and when you did, he came to a complete stop. "Yes." You said a little louder and he smirked. "Good girl." He then started to move inside you again. Slowly starting to pound into you again. Slamming his cock into you. His skin slapping against yours. The sound of y'all's moans and clapping of skin filling the room.

With each harsh thrust, your climax quickly built back up and his to. His cock throbbing and twitching. He groaned loudly as he came, and you quickly did the same. Soaking his cock. He started to slow down. Harshly thrusting up into you one last time before he stilled, and he finished. Filling the condom up to the brim. He stayed inside of you as he tilted your head to the side. Gently kissing your lips. His tongue moving along your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply. Then, when he pulled away, he had a big, cocky grin.

#la knight #la knight x reader #la knight imagine #wwe #wwe smackdown #friday night smackdown #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe smut #smut fanfiction #x reader #shaun ricker

[weirdthinkingdragon]

One Obsessed Actor

Idk laws and contracts of actors so if it's wrong go with it. 

Yandere male actor x gn reader

Yandere who is a super famous actor starring as the male lead love interest in the upcoming romance/action movie. They initially thought nothing of you who were just a side actor for the movie with just a few lines.

However, unlike many others who weren't too into it, even some of the higher role cast, you were giving it your all in your lines. He respected that. That alone got him to interact with you a few times and he rather liked your interests that he got you to bring up. 

As time went on, you were eventually recorded for your lines and were still allowed back onto the set. Mostly because oddly enough you became friends with the main actor. Others- especially the lead love interest woman- weren't too happy, but they couldn't do anything about it. He's the one that demanded you to be there or he'd refuse to continue acting in the movie. 

Last time you weren't allowed on set by the female lead love interest, he walked off set and stood by you out of the building, shocking everyone. That made the others begrudgingly agree to let you back in. The director didn’t really care, but the others were annoyed he always seemed more inclined to talk to you than them. 

The lead woman seemed to make it her mission to get you off the set since you no longer needed to be there. You knew what she was trying to do. So did the director and the male lead actor. Even many of the others quickly pick up on it but do nothing from the drastic measures the male actor did before.   

With time you noticed he seemed to get more and more agitated by her attempts. One time in spite or whatever was going on with her, she tried to burn you by “accidentally” dropping a very hot beverage on you. He steps in for you and gets burned instead, getting her in a lot of serious trouble. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot, so the burn wasn’t too bad. You still kept apologizing to him that he got burned instead. He kept brushing your apology off, telling you he wanted to do it. A part of you thinks he enjoys the attention his burn gave him with you. You were the only one allowed to help put ointment on the burns. 

Eventually though, the woman gets kicked out by being involved in something you didn't feel like digging into. She’s been a royal thorn for weeks. She struggled in the grip of two men who were taking her away to be sent to jail. She yelled before being dragged off set and arrested that she was framed. No one believed her. 

He had a grin on his face that seemed too genuine for the situation. You knew he kept a friendly smile to everyone to stay more well-liked, but this still felt wrong in a way you couldn't explain. Like he was glad she was gotten rid of. 

The movie wasn't even close to finished yet, but they couldn't find anyone similar enough to her to fill the role and redo all of them again. 

He comes up with the idea to change the story where he as the character can't find her character. That her character disappeared or stopped responding to his. And in the gloom of his character, he meets yours. Therefore making YOU the new love interest. 

You were absolutely gobsmacked he said that and you didn't even know what to say. Just frozen with a numb brain.

The director liked the idea to a point but didn't want you to be the new love interest as you're not a famous person so likely views and sales would tank. They managed to find a fairly famous actor who was willing to fill the role instead. 

He absolutely refused and threatened to walk off set right then and there, never to come back if they went through with having that person be the new love interest. Besides, there are enough people and characters in the movie. What would be the point of adding another person? They'd have to pay the actor quite a lot too for the sudden demand.

The director eventually disheartenedly agrees.

It was a way higher role than you’ve ever had, but you refused to back down at the opportunity and worked hard on the new lines and scenes that had to be created for you. 

It gets to the final end scene of the movie. In the end kissing scene, it was supposed to be incredibly "romantic". You were unsure how to feel about having to kiss such an actor who’s also your friend at this point. But it had to be done. Just a quick kiss and things could be over with. 

You force yourself to get into character. “How do I know you’ll always be there for me?” 

He cups his left hand on your face and looks at you adoringly. It’s so convincing that it seems genuine how much he loves you. “I would kill if I had to in order to keep you by my side. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t live without you.”

… That wasn’t his line from the script. You don’t get a chance to say anything to stop the scene before his hand is on the back of your head, pulling your face to his, having his lips collide with yours.  

He had so much fervor like he genuinely wanted to kiss. Is this why he’s such a prized actor? 

“Cut!!” 

You put your hand on his chest and shove him away. Your face feels like it’s more than on fire and you can’t look him in the eye. He only answers by chuckling. You end up running off to cool your face off. 

“That was a bit different than what it was supposed to be, but it was so good that I can’t complain. That was incredible!” 

“Well, because it’s genuine.”

Dead. Silence. 

“What??? So that’s why you wanted them???”

His face formed a massive grin, knowing what saying this out loud would bring. It will be chaotic, but the public is much more willing to listen to him than you. And no jealous fans will be able to get to you. After all, you’re coming with him sooner than later whether you like it or not. 

---------------------

An: if I was more creative rn I would have made this a fic

#yandere male #yandere male x you #yandere actor #yandere male actor #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere man x you #yandere oc x reader